


Say It Again, Sweetheart

by andthewhales



Series: Daddy and His Boy at the End of the World [1]
Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Begging, Daddy Kink, Daddy!Rick, M/M, much smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1842253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthewhales/pseuds/andthewhales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl lets slip an unexpected kink during some late night activities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say It Again, Sweetheart

Daryl whines, face buried in the hollow of Rick’s throat. His back is against the wall, one leg hiked up around Rick’s waist, drawing him in and holding him impossibly close as the taller man eases into him, huffing soft promises against warm skin. Their bodies feed off each other’s heat, naked skin slick and sweat-sheened.

“I’ve got you,” Rick croons, gently shushing the hunter’s needy groans when he’s fully sheathed inside. Daryl rocks his hips intently, desperate for friction and overdue gratification after the tortuously slow preparation his lover had put him through. Rick splays a firm, unyielding hand against his stomach to halt the motion.

“Patience, baby.” And he grins at how Daryl tenses beneath him, the light flex of muscle beneath the surface, loves how affected the other man is by the endearment.

“Quit teasin’,” Daryl hisses, and it might have been intended as a command, but the thin pitch of a whine is still present in his tone, and Rick is certain that with just a little more urging, he could convince the hunter to beg. The hands in his hair tighten almost to the point of hurting when he remains motionless. It’s a hell of a task when he can feel the tight ring of muscle twitching around him in anticipation and the way Daryl’s muscles start to shake, just barely, his body rebelling against being held in position too long.

“Ask me nicely.”

“Please,” Daryl snaps, and delivers a harsh bite to his shoulder in frustration. Rick half-shouts in surprise and pain. He retaliate with a sharp pinch to the tender skin over Daryl’s ribcage and feels no remorse when the man jumps underneath him.

“Brat,” he mutters, shifting his position. He hikes Daryl’s leg up higher onto his hip and widens his stance, leaning his weight more fully onto him. Daryl’s breath hitches when he feel Rick’s cock edge in further but not nearly enough to satisfy the growing need for release. “I won’t tell you again.”

“Please,” the archer tries again, more softly. His head rolls back to rest against the wall, hands sliding from Rick’s hair to his neck, and thick fingers twist into the damp curls at his nape. Dark blue eyes peer out from beneath the fringe of unruly hair, pupils blown wide, imploring. “I need it, please.”

“Need what, baby?”

“You,” he forces out, “Just, just move. Please.”

Rick complies, surging forward to capture Daryl’s mouth with his own, and finally his hips are moving. Drawing out slowly and steadily, reveling in the delicious drag of flesh against flesh, the cool night air rushing to caress the spaces where their bodies had been held flush together, coveting warmth. And then rocking forward, settling into a pace just shy of fast enough. Daryl’s mouth falls slack against his, wet and pliant. Rick greedily swallows down the grunts and groans as they twist and morph into pleas and whimpers.

Daryl’s hands trail down from Rick’s hair, caressing and scratching invisible patterns across the skin. He halts their descent to play with hardened nipples, deftly rolling them between calloused pads before suddenly twisting sharp and hard they way he knows Rick loves. Curses fall out of Rick’s mouth amidst harsh breathing and aborted growls. He doubles his efforts, harder, faster, deeper until he wipes the little smirk off Daryl’s face, indulging in his own self-satisfied grin when his lover’s hands falter and instead the strong arms wrap around him to cling desperately at his shoulders as he pounds up into him. The sounds he makes are Rick’s own personal torture, needy, quiet but insistent, delicious as they crawl up his spine, demanding his devout attention.

“Please, Daddy, please.”

It’s whispered and hardly there, and if they’d been in any other position he might have missed it altogether. But Daryl is pressed in so close, mouth against his ear and he can feel the fluttering warmth of his breath as he keens and makes the soft little sounds he’d be too embarrassed to ever admit to. Hell, Rick doesn't even know if Daryl realizes what he’s said, but before he can stop himself he responds.

“Say it again, sweetheart.” Daryl freezes against him. Rick slows the roll of his hips but doesn't stop, pulling back far enough to see the flush of embarrassment spread across the other man’s cheeks. He won’t meet Rick’s gaze and his hands, still shaking but for wholly different reason, withdraw from their embrace until only his fingertips dance uneasily over Rick’s sides. Rick snatches them up without hesitation, pulling them to his lips and kissing them gently.

“It’s alright. It’s alright, baby,” he encourages, chasing away the tremors with his mouth, across his fingertips and down to the drumming pulse in his wrist. “Say it again.”

“D-daddy.”

It’s raw and vulnerable and so goddamn tender that Rick almost feels ashamed of the dark, sharp coil of lust that it sends spiraling through him. His hips snap forward violently, jerking up into Daryl and forcing a half broken sob from thin, perfect lips.

“Daddy, please.”

“That’s right, baby, Daddy’s got you.”

Rick tugs Daryl’s other leg up off the ground. The other man obeys, hooking his ankles together at the small of Rick’s back, trusting him to keep them both upright. Rick sinks back into a steady rhythm, urgent and almost violent and so obscenely loud as skin slaps against skin. Daryl is loose enough now that Rick slips in and out with ease, unafraid of harming him with his rough pace. Daryl’s bony ass is practically bouncing against him, they’ll both have bruises in the morning, but Rick can hardly care. Daryl still won’t look at him, instead he leans in to press their foreheads together, snatching up stunted kisses in between his steady stream of “pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease” that gets quieter and quieter the closer he gets to orgasm.

It’s something that has always fascinated Rick, the way Daryl goes silent when he comes. His mouth falls open but no sound escapes, just little huffs of breath hardly touching Rick’s own lips. His eyes screw shut and it’s like he’s trying to hold it in, trying to clamp down on the burning burst of pleasure and keep it inside him. And when the moment passes he finally falls apart, sags against Rick and drops one leg to the ground, too tired to hold on anymore.

“Sorry,” he whispers tiredly when Rick pulls out to strip off the condom and wrap his hand around himself. “Want me to?”

“No, baby, you’re alright. Just need you to talk to me.”

Daryl smirks. “Want me to talk dirty, Officer?”

“Want my baby to tell me how much he likes it when Daddy fucks him.”

The blush is back on his cheeks, though fainter than before, and maybe it’s the post-orgasmic fatigue that’s got him so pliant, or maybe it’s simply knowing that Rick isn't bothered by it, quite the opposite in fact. Regardless, he sighs and settles in and confesses.

“Fuckin’ love it. Like it when you take care a’ me. Ain’t no one make me feel good like you do, Daddy.”

“Is that right?” Rick murmurs unevenly. The pressure is building everywhere, behind his eyes, in his core, tightening like a wire strung through his entire body. He lets his hand fall and instead ruts into the smooth juncture of Daryl’s hip, reaching down and around to cup the hunter’s ass, fingers toying with the abused hole. Daryl’s voice catches as he continues.

“Mm-hm. F-feels so fuckin’ good when you’re inside me, like you’re gonna tear me apart. And I’ll let ya, cuz…cuz I’m your boy.”

The innocence and uncertainty creep back into his voice, strikes that chord inside Rick, and he’s close, so close.

“That’s right, you’re my boy. All mine. And you’re gonna be good for me, aren't you? My good boy?” He’s fucking panting now, frantic and uncontrolled and when Daryl whines at the praise it’s right there. His boy is bringing him over the edge.

“Yes, Daddy. Be a good boy for you. I’ll be so good, Daddy, I promise.”

Rick’s loud when he comes, groaning and cussing while come spatters them both, dripping down from their stomachs onto patches of coarse hair. He sighs and nips at the scruff on Daryl’s chin, smiling softly as the blissful aftermath washes over him. Daryl’s half-hard again, but Rick knows from experience that neither of them will be able to manage a second round. Even so, he palms the length with a firm hand a couple times to watch is baby squirm. Daryl groans and shoves at his shoulder weakly.

“Don’t even. We’re both too old for that.”

“Hmm. Young at heart, though.”

Daryl tenses at the comment, eyes on the move again, looking everywhere but at Rick.

“We don’t gotta do that again. If you don’t want.” He says, expression as blank as he can manage. When he moves to step around Rick, reaching for the clothes they both threw onto the floor haphazardly hours before, the older man catches him around the waist and holds him steady.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of it that easily.” He warns, although his voice is sweet with promise. “You’re my perfect little boy now, and I ain’t ever gonna let you go.”

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing. Long live the kink. Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome.


End file.
